Chapter 7: The Villa
1501 Words
Cape Coast smelled like salt and old secrets.
The villa was on the cliff. Glass walls. Private beach. No one for miles.
Just me and him.
Kairo didn’t speak in the car from Accra. Three hours of silence.
Rule 2. Don’t ask.
So I didn’t.
He walked in first. Dropped his bag. "Your room is down the hall."
"Separate rooms?"
His eyes flicked to me. "Yes."
That should’ve been relief. It wasn’t.
My room had a balcony. Ocean view. Bed big enough for three people.
I unpacked. One bag. The same one I came with to his penthouse.
Nothing had changed. Except everything.
At 7PM Mama Grace called. "Dinner is served, dear. On the terrace."
I walked out.
He was already there. Shirt unbuttoned at the top. No suit. No walls.
Just Kairo.
He poured wine. Red. Expensive. "Sit."
I sat.
We ate in silence. Fish. Plantain. Food from the local market.
He didn’t hire a chef here.
"Why Cape Coast?" I asked. Before I could stop myself.
He didn’t snap. He just looked at the water.
"My mom brought me here when I was 13," he said. "After my father left. She said the sea washes away ghosts."
My chest hurt.
"Did it work?"
"No," he said. "I just learned to live with them."
The wind was loud.
I reached across the table. My hand touched his. Just for a second.
He didn’t pull away.
"Rule 1," he whispered.
"Rule 1 is dead," I said back.
He stood. Fast. "Go to your room, Aria."
"Make me."
He froze.
The air got heavy. Hot.
"Don’t test me tonight."
"Or what?"
He walked to the edge of the terrace. Hands in his pockets. Back to me.
"Or I won’t let you go in the morning."
I stood too.
I walked to him. Slow.
I was behind him now. Close enough to feel his heat.
"Kairo," I said.
He turned.
Our faces were inches apart.
He didn’t kiss me.
He pressed his forehead to mine. Eyes closed. Breathing hard.
"This is a mistake," he said.
"Then let’s make it," I whispered.
He broke first.
His mouth on mine. Hard. Desperate. Like he’d been holding back for days.
I tasted salt. Wine. Him.
His hands were in my hair. My hands were on his chest.
No rules. No contract. Just us.
He pulled back first. Gasping.
"What are we doing?"
"I don’t know," I said. Honest.
He looked at me like I was the answer and the problem.
"Room. Now."
I went.
He didn’t follow.
I lay in that big bed alone.
My lips still burned.
At 2AM there was a knock.
I opened it.
Kairo. No shirt. Just sweatpants.
"You didn’t lock the door," he said.
"I left it open."
He stepped in. Closed it behind him.
"I’m not staying," he said.
"Okay."
He walked to the bed. Sat on the edge.
"I’m not," he said again.
"I heard you."
He lay down next to me. On top of the covers. Full clothes.
"Just for five minutes," he said.
I rolled to my side. Faced him.
"Five minutes," I agreed.
We didn’t sleep.
We talked.
Real talk. No masks.
He told me about the nights he cried as a kid. About the first company he built at 19. About how he doesn’t trust anyone.
I told him about my mom. About Nima. About how scared I was every day.
At 6AM he was still there.
His arm around me. My head on his chest.
I didn’t move.
He woke first.
He looked down at me. Tired. Soft.
"Don’t make this real," he said. Quiet.
"Too late," I whispered.
He closed his eyes.
"Rule 3," he said.
"Don’t fall for you," I finished.
"I already did," he said.
My breath stopped.
He sat up. Fast. Like he regretted it.
"Forget I said that."
"I can’t."
He walked to the door. Stopped.
"Breakfast at 8. Beach walk at 9. Don’t be late."
He left.
I lay there.
My heart was loud.
Rule 1, 2, and 3 were all broken.
And we had 87 days left.
Day 4 started with rain.
Heavy. Loud.
He was on the beach anyway. No shirt. No shoes.
Running.
I watched from the balcony.
He stopped. Looked up at me.
"Come down."
I did.
The rain hit hard. Cold.
He grabbed my hand.
We ran.
No words. Just rain and waves and his hand in mine.
We stopped under a rock. Out of breath. Wet.
He pushed wet hair from my face.
"You’re going to ruin me," he said.
"Maybe you need ruining."
He laughed. Real. Not bitter. Real.
I hadn’t heard that sound before.
He kissed me again. Slower this time.
Like he had time.
Like 90 days didn’t exist.
The rain fell.
And I knew.
I wasn’t leaving in 90 days.
Even if he told me to.
I was already home.The rain stopped at noon.
We were still on the beach. Wet. Cold. Holding hands.
He didn’t let go when we walked back.
The villa felt different now. Smaller. Warmer.
Mama Grace was gone. He sent her to Accra.
"Just us," he said.
No staff. No rules. No one watching.
He made lunch. Himself.
Jollof. Burnt at the edges.
"You cook?" I asked. Shocked.
"My mom taught me," he said. Not looking at me.
It tasted like home.
After lunch he took me to the castle.
Cape Coast Castle.
We walked the dungeons in silence.
The walls were thick. Cold. Full of ghosts.
"This is where they kept them," he said. Low.
I touched the wall.
"Before you say sorry for meme," he said. "Don’t."
"Why?"
"Because you don’t owe me pity," he said. "You owe me truth."
"Okay," I said. "The truth is, I’m scared."
"Of what?"
"Of you. Of this. Of 90 days ending and me having nothing left."
He turned to me.
In that dark room, with no cameras, no money, no contract.
Just us.
"Then stay," he said.
My heart broke and healed in the same second.
"Stay how?" "Don’t count the days," he said. "Just be here. With me. Now."
I nodded.
We didn’t kiss there.
It felt too sacred.
That night we sat on the balcony.
Blanket over both of us.
Stars everywhere.
"Tell me something you’ve never told anyone," I said.
He was quiet.
"I’m afraid of being alone," he said.
"You won’t be."
"You don’t know that."
"I do," I said. "Because I’m not going anywhere."
He looked at me.
Really looked.
Then he pulled me closer.
We slept like that. On the balcony. Under the stars.
No walls. No masks.
Day 5 started with his phone ringing.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
He answered. Angry. "What?"
His face changed.
"She’s fine. I’m handling it."
He hung up.
"Who was it?"
"My lawyer," he said. "Elena is suing. Claiming I promised her a company stake."
"Elena? From the gala?"
"Yes."
"Are you scared?"
"No," he said. "But you should be. She’ll come for you next."
"Let her," I said. "I’m not scared of her."
He smiled. Small. Tired.
"That’s why I’m in trouble," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"Because I like that you’re not scared of me either."
The phone rang again.
He threw it in the ocean.
"I’m done," he said.
"For 90 days?"
"For good."
I believed him.
That night he didn’t go to his room.
He stayed in mine.
We didn’t touch.
We just slept.
Together.
And for the first time since I met him,
Kairo Blackwood looked peaceful.
Rule 1, 2, and 3 were ash.
And I wouldn’t rebuild them.Day 6 came fast.
No rain. Just sun. Hot. Bright.
He was already up when I woke. Coffee in his hand.
"Pack," he said.
"Where now?"
"Accra."
The drive back was quiet. But not heavy.
Different quiet.
Like we didn’t need words.
His penthouse felt smaller now.
Or maybe I just felt bigger in it.
"Back to work?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No work today."
"Then what?"
"Us."
That night he cooked again.
Same burnt jollof.
Same looklook in his eyes.
After dinner he took my hand.
"Come with me."
He led me to the rooftop.
Accra was lit below us. Loud. Alive.
He stood behind me. Arms around my waist.
"90 days started as a contract," he said.
"I know."
"It’s not anymore," he said.
I turned in his arms.
"So what is it?"
He looked down at me.
"Home."
He kissed me then.
Slow. Certain. Like he meant it.
Like he wasn’t afraid.
And I wasn’t either.
Because Rule 1, 2, and 3 were gone.
And I was staying.
Day 7 started with no alarm.
No contract. No countdown.
Just him. Just me.
And 83 days left to pretend we weren’t already in love.I closed my eyes.
And for the first time in my life,
I wasn’t counting down. No rules. No fear.
Just Kairo.
And the 90 days didn’t scare me anymore.It felt like freedom.For the first time.Ever.[End Of Chapter 7]
- Writer
